


Turning Points

by twigs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous Relationships, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Enemies to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Obsession, One Shot, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Quidditch, Showers, Smoking, Teasing, Unresolved Tension, time mix up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigs/pseuds/twigs
Summary: AU"Why do you hate me?"It blurted out before he could stop himself, fuck he shouldn't have accepted that joint.





	Turning Points

**Author's Note:**

> >>>Enjoy :-))))  
> >>> maybe grace moi with some feedback  
> >>> this au is neither set in the 1940s past nor in harrys timeline, its something entirely else, a weird but loveable mess  
> 

Dark hair was carefully arranged in inky waves on top of his head, a loose curl deliberately placed on his brow.

The typical Hogwarts attire clung to his tall frame, the dark fabric fluttering after his every step and the head boy badge blinking authoritative on his chest.

Harry's heart stuttered treacherously.

Merlin, he was so beautiful, there was no other word for it, normally men were handsome and women were beautiful, but he was both.

From the small mole over his strong eyebrow to the way his aristocratic nose would slightly scrunch whenever he allowed his contemplative façade to scramble.

"Tell me what are you thinking about, hun?"

The boy in question asked with a knowing smirk and a raised brow.  
Teasing, taunting, absolute in his confidence.

Harry's cheeks heated, but he kept his voice calm and sure.

"You, what else?"

"How surprising", his tone was mellow but it carried a satisfied note with it.

There were so many words you could use to describe Tom Riddel, if you made a list there would be words like exceptional and magnificent, manipulating and selfish, determined and eloquent and scheming and cruel and the list could go on and on, but right on top of the list woul probablyd stand written in bold caps 'possessive as fuck'.  
As soon as he had set his mind on something, as soon as he had declared something was going to be his no matter whether object or person, or wether the person objected, he would find one way or another to own it.

And he would always get his way.  
Good for Harry, or rather not so much, depending on who you asked. 

"Conceited much, Riddle?"

"Not at all hun, but I know you probably even better than you know yourself. You've got a bit of a one-track mind."

Harry's eyes shot daggers at the other boy, who just as much as insulted his intelligence. Maybe he wasn't as studious or attentive as Riddle, maybe he was a bit lazy and didn't feel the need to charm his way to exceptional grades, but that didn't mean he was completely dense. He had his strength in other areas, Merlin, he played quidditch like no other and in DADA he could easily keep up with Riddle if he wanted.

He threw up his middle finger.

"Go suck your own dick Riddle, cause I sure as hell won't do it anymore. I've got better things to do with my time than salivating around you."

He turned around to angrily stomp out of the common room, to let out some steam on the quidditch field, maybe run a few rounds too as long as the sun was still shining, when he felt a pair of strong arms come around his waist, keeping him pinned against a tall body.

He pushed against the steel like bands holding him in place, damn someone so smart shouldn't be allowed to be physically fit as well, it was more than unfair. Especially considering that Harry had never actually seen Riddle do anything remotely counting as sports, besides maybe jogging around the great lake and that he apparently only did because it helped him to concentrate and people left him alone, rather than for fitness. Harry had asked.

"Imbecile free time" was the original wording.

"Come on, hun. Don't sulk like a stereotypical gryffindor, I know you can do better."  
Harry huffed indignantly, but he ceased his fruitless struggles and was rewarded for his compliance with a gentle kiss to his neck.

"I am a Gryffindor Riddle, just because you chose to ignore what doesn't fit your shoe, does not make it any less true."

The heat of the others breath skimmed over his neck leaving a trail of goosebumps and angry desire.

"Which surprises me each time anew, I can guarantee you."

He felt the chuckle vibrating in Riddle's chest rather than actually hearing the sound leaving riddles lips.

"Arrogant bastard."

This time Riddle laughed out loud, deep and low and a chilling nuance tainting the otherwise warm tone.

"Verbatim, if you asked my dear father."

His tone mellow and composed even though the dry humor was impossible to miss, but Riddle always played the nonchalant part to an a.

Harry instantly felt the bitter taste of regret washing over his tongue and the need to utter an apology pushed against his lips, but his stupid Gryffindor pride wouldn't let him soothe the burn of the words.  
His finger nails dug through the robe into Riddles arm.

"Tom, I-", he tried to turn around to look the other in the eye, to try to gauge the others mood, but Tom firmly kept him pressed to his front.

"Don't worry, hun. I know you didn't mean it like that", the other nibbled on his earlobe and Harry suppressed a delighted shudder.  
He was still mad damn it, but that apparently was his permanent condition when dealing with Riddle.  
For Merlin's sake, most of the time their fights were like foreplay for them.

Harry nearly jumped when suddenly teeth bit down, obviously punishing, on his earlobe, short and hard, before the throb was soothed with a lazy lick and then he was released as Riddle stepped back.

"Off you go, hun. Play quidditch or such, I've got important things to do. See you later."

Harry hissed and swirled around, his wand in his hand and a hex on his tongue, only to see Riddle already a few feet away, walking towards the head boy room he occupied all by himself.

Arrogant, insolent, heartless prick.

A fuming Harry was surprisingly always a productive Harry.  
He was lucky and the quidditch field was completely empty as he stepped onto the green grass with his nimbus in his right hand and a quaffel in his left. The fresh spring air had done nothing to calm his temper, but to stoke the flames Riddle had sowed.

He practiced catching and throwing with the quaffel for a few minutes, but as good as he played his role as a seeker, he would only ever be a mediocre chaser.

Afterwards he flew a few rounds around the field, working on his drops and slope and how fast he could go down before he had to pull up, but when he saw some third years coming towards the field he decided he wasn't ready for small talk and he wouldn´t make decent company anyway so he pulled up and to test how high up he could go.

Hogwarts from above was a magnificent sight, old and mighty and full of unexplored mysteries and untold secrets. Harry loved it, he couldn't imagine ever leaving it behind, this was his home - his safe harbour - but the clock was ticking vigorously, he was in his final year now. Everyone was preparing to move on, some of his classmates wanted to work for the ministry, some wanted to travel and some thought about repeating a school year in one of the other wizarding schools like Beauxbatons or Durmstrang.

Harry felt like a leaf in the wind, like he was blown in one direction and then in the other, powerless and without destiny. Until recently, he had his mind set on becoming an auror, but his grades weren't all that good and his view on the ministry had changed quite a bit. The black and white world he had lived in for his first few years had dissolved into endless different grey tones. Harry was malcontent and restless.

As he drove higher into the sky he felt the condensed water form thousands of tiny droplets that clung to his skin and hair and shirt and rolled down his cheek. It was damn freezing cold so high up in the sky and he cast a small wandless heating charm around himself.

So far, his life had presented him with three defining turning points, that had shaped him and changed his chosen course drastically.

The first one had been his invitation to Hogwarts. To get out and away from his cruel relatives and to learn that magic was real had been incredible freeing. For the first time he had made real friends and learned what loyalty and kindness really meant. It had been a year of many firsts.  
He had gotten Hedwig his first owl and confidant. He had aced his first test and failed his first test. He had broken rules and started trouble and made a new nemesis (Malfoy of course) and had become the youngest seeker in hogwarts history and they had won the house cup right in his first year. His second defining moment had been in his third year when he had become aware of one prefect Tom Marvolo Riddle. To be fair, Harry had friends in other houses, mainly Ravenclaw as they quite frequently attended classes together, but he had mostly lived in his comfortable Gryffindor bubble. Harry had a big mouth and he wasn't reserved by nature, so the first time Harry actually noticed the other boy - surely, they had spoken before, he just couldn't remember even though he tried desperately - they had a fight that ended in detention. Or a small disagreement and Harry was in the wrong of course, as Riddle had called it back then. Harry couldn't remember the reason anymore, but it was probably something completely trivial, but from this day on it was an open war between them. Riddle just couldn't forgive Harry for getting them into detention and for tainting his precious reputation. And Harry just couldn't stand Riddles almighty, role model student attitude. He had glimpsed the real nature behind the facade, not to mention Riddle was a Slytherin. Gryffindor's public enemy no. 1 with special badge. 

His third defining moment happened, when his vendetta with Riddle had turned into something entirely different.  
It had been an emotionally fueled evening, at the end of his sixth year, when the two of them found themselves outside far away from the castle and from reality.

His teammates were still celebrating inside the Gryffindor common room, booze was smuggled, and someone had brought some muggle drug - after all they had won against Slytherin and the slimy snakes were probably sulking right know - so the atmosphere was elated.

Harry couldn't remember who had pushed the thin stick with the dried leaves in his hand, but a joint was passed around and he took a few drags before he chased the rough tickling in his throat with some leftover and by now terrible stale butterbeer. But it got the job done.When the drug finally hit his bloodstream, he felt the need to get some fresh air, so harrry sneaked out the back door letting the rowdy crowd behind.

His mind lost in sensation, his feet lead him to the great lake. As much as he loved the chatter and the attention of his classmates, he got because he was a school famous seeker and halfway popular (he could go pro after school and if this didn't impress the girls-), he sometimes yearned for some space and some time alone. The sun was just setting, painting the sky in deep orange and lush red shades and the bluish green waves sloshing in a constant rhythm against the edge that surrounded them and formed then a lake.

So, one could say he was surprised when he spotted another person leaning casually against one of the many willows that grew all around the whole lake, looking deeply lost in their own thoughts.  
A hand occasionally lifted to lead the end of a cig between defined lips that were constantly pulled into a thoughtful frown.  
Double the surprise when Harry came close enough to make out the outlines of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry watched the other for a few seconds inhaling cancer and exhaling a white cloud.

Feeling oddly at easy, Harry went to stand next to Riddle. They watched the up and downs of the waves in silence, Riddle making no move to acknowledge his presence or even to even hide the muggle cig.  
It had to be the muggle drug but Harry found himself oddly fascinated with the pale sophisticated looking boy besides him. He watched the other finish his cig, throwing the butt into the lake and lightening a new one.  
His adams apple moved every time he swallowed and the veins on his neck and hands rivaled the one of ancient delicate sculptured greek figures.

Dark lashes rested on high cheekbones and Harry found himself wondering.

This boy besides him had already overcome the cusp of adolescence, he contained a barely tamed wildness inside of him and this raw energy, this still mostly unused potential he had heard the teachers always talk about, made Harry even more dizzy.

"May I have a drag?"

Harry's voice was hoarse even to his own ears and he could use a good cup of water right know, but he found himself unwilling to leave just yet.

Out of the corner of his eye Riddle glanced down at him before he wordlessly offered the stick.

Harry took a drag, it was not his first or even second time smoking. Merlin, he was a curious growing lad of nearly seventeen years, a good few months of the year around some muggles who hated him and wanted nothing to do with him, but called themselves aunt and uncle. One had to find some vices to beat some time.

"Thanks." He held the butt so iddle could easily take it back.

But what surprised Harry the most was that Riddle would do something so incredible mundane and muggle-like, such as smoking. He had gotten the impression the other would do nearly everything to forget his roots. 

Bad habits were hard to quit, you were more likely to collect them like bijou in a rapidly filling glass bottle. Something to stack, to smile at when the memories came back over coffee break and to lament the good ol times, and last but not least incredibly useless and only taking room away that you could better use for more productive things.

"What are you doing here, Harry? Don't you have a victory to celebrate?"

He wasn't conceited enough to thing that Riddle asked out of curiosity or because he was sulking for his house's defeat.

Riddle didn't care about such petty things as quidditch, his words.

"Nobody parties like the Gryffindors", Harry kicked some loose pebbles into the water and watched them creating small splashes. Maybe waking the squid or whatever.  
"Just needed some fresh air."

"I see."

The other eyed him once again before he stared back, towards somewhere in the distance across the lake.  
It seems the other was not in the mood to talk today, what a shame because Harry felt damn talkative at the moment. 

"Why do you hate me?"

It blurted out before he could stop himself, fuck he shouldn't have accepted the joint.

Riddle raised an eyebrow and finally looked him in the eyes.

"I don't hate you, Harry", he said evenly.

Why did Riddle always called him Harry? Yes, it was his name, but everyone else called him Potter and yes, Riddle called most people by their forename, some weird way to fake intimacy and establish his superiority or something, but it just confused Harry to no end.

"To hate you, I would have to care about you and to be completely honest I don't have so much time to waste on you."

What a complete dick, this was such a Slytherin thing to say.

"Well, certainly didn't feel like you don't care about me these last few years." 

Harry mumbled and snatched the cig from Riddle's finger to take a frustrated drag.

Why did Riddle's words annoyed him so much? They didn't particular bothered him but he just felt the base need to hit this jerk, to struggle and to kick and to scream and to just pull a real honest emotion from his mouth.

"Are you high, Harry? Or why do you feel the need to harass me this late at night?"

"Merlin, you and your foul mood can bugger off, actually you are the one who disrupted my peaceful stroll to even out my jag."

A low chuckle left the boy beside him and for a second Harry thought he had only imagined the sound in some weird hallucinated fit, but when he turned to look at the other a smirk graced full lips and Harry noticed the top lip appeared a tad fuller than the bottom lip, he wore a natural pout when he was relaxed and not constantly pinching his mouth in contempt.

Why did he think about Riddle and full pouting lips in one sentence?  
Riddle. Full soft looking pouting lips.  
Two sentences but that didn't make it any better. 

"Good."

Those soft full lips, Harry found himself enamored with curled in a taunting grin, as they slowly wrapped around the glowing stick. A darker slash on the right side of his bottom lip interrupted the soft consistency of his otherwise pinkish lips and harry thought they must have once been split pretty badly to leave such a scar. Whatever the cause, he hoped Riddle threw the first punch.

Harry felt like he was caught in a time expansion as he watched Riddle take a deep breath of the cig and turn towards him. These soft defined lips still curled into a devilish grin as they leaned down and closed the gap between them and suddenly they were pressed tightly against Harry´s, a strong hand clasping over his neck, preventing him from backing away or escaping. Not that the thought crossed his mind after he felt those lips closing over his, demanding his own to open for them and even though Harry knew were this would head, he didn't resist too much. A thumb stroked softly down his cheek, only to press unrelenting down on his jaw and Harry complied. Riddle exhaled.

Rough, scratching smoke filled his mouth and his throat and airways and lungs and he tasted fascination and coffee and mint and cinnamon and citrus and he felt suffocated, because he just needed fresh air. He only needed fresh air. Riddles tongue swiftly explored his mouth, meeting Harry´s own tongue, that prepared for survival, and licked over Harry´s teeth. Riddle could probably still taste the burnt aroma of the joint and the sweetness of the butterbeer. It hadn't been particularly good, cheap and diluted but for inexperienced user still enough to give them a short-lived thrill. It was all about the buzz after all.

Harry pushed in a desperate attempt against Riddles shoulders, his natural fight or flight instincts kicking in, he felt his lungs cramping and the scratch turned into a burn, so alike to when you consumed pure cinnamon. If could be spicy and exotic, somehow even sweet, but if you let it too long on your tongue it would burn you unexpected and unapologetic.

As abruptly as the kiss began Riddle let him go. He stepped away, looking mildly unfazed. Harry doubled over, hands clutching his middle and a coughing fit was torturing his body and he greedily let the crisp fresh air into his body. Deep breaths. And again. Inhale. Inhale

When his body had calmed enough for him to speak again without the feeling of suffocating, he let out a weak but amused chuckle.

"Riddle ... you are some right bastard."

He rightened himself to face the other and licked his dry lips.  
Riddle had thrown the butt into the lake by now and with his hands pushed into his black slacks, he had slightly cocked his head to a side, watching Harry with dark eyes and a knowing smirk.

"It has been an enlightened talk, Harry. Let's meet up again sometime."

And then this bastard simply strolled away. The weeks after, they danced around each other, one step forward, two backwards, one step to the left, one step to the right. And at the end of their sixth year they weren't exactly dating but they were something else.  
And since Riddles presence had found a constant in Harry´s life, his whole world view had shifted. Their meeting so far marked the most recent changing point. 

When Harry returned to the quidditch field, he was from head to toe totally drenched and shivering, his charm not able to withstand this merciless height.  
Tiny ice crystals had formed on his eyelashes and his cheeks glowed frostbitten red.  
The small group of third years he had successfully avoided, had already left so he didn't have to answer any questions about his sorry frozen state.

Harry hurried towards the Gryffindor changing room, his destination the integrated stall showers to get the blood in his feet pumping once again.

With a quick wave of his wand he locked the door, he didn't fancy someone barging in on him, standing butt naked under the hot water. His mates would probably take a picture and sell them to the highest bidder, one of his fangirls probably. He grimaced at the thought. They even followed him in his sleep, that's what the common called nightmare.

He turned on the faucet and instantly steam clouded the air. As everything in and around hogwarts even the quidditch changing rooms were built extravagant, in a medieval and ancient way. The floor was made of some charmed dark wood that absorbed the water and acted as some sort of root system, the liquid would be transported to the greenhouse after it was throughoutly cleansed.

The faucets were actually formed like small gargoyles, their wings anchored to the wall and their mouth wide open they vomited water.  
Every few meters a low quadratic wooden block acted as a partition and a tray. Soft green little sprigs lifted their head and were greedily absorbing the humid air. A deep sign loosened in his chest and Harry was content to simply enjoy the warm water running over his icicle body. He was so engrossed in this state of relief, he didn't notice the other person entering the room. The sound of the water drowned out any other noise and Harry was confident in his charm, so when a hand clasped over his mouth, his heart stopped for a second and his eyes flew wide open in shock. His first reaction was to reach for his wand, but his wand laid carefully discharged on his clothing pile. Fuck. Merlin's shriveled balls. He tried to kick out, but a fully clothed knee pressed between his legs and he found himself plastered against the cool marble wall. Just when he was about to go into full-blown panic mode, a sardonic snicker reached his ears. 

"I expected better of a fight, hun. After all your big words."

There was white noise ringing in his ear and he tried to bite down the best he could on the hand covering his mouth. His teeth only scraped some skin and did no real damage to his annoyance. 

But the grip lessened enough for him to speak, or was to rage a better verb?

"You complete asshole, what the fuck? You selfish cruel dick, I could have fucking died from shock, why did you do this to me?"

The man pressing him into the cold marble was only mildly amused by his tirade and he felt lips trailing over his wet shoulders. Seven years daily quidditch training and a constant food supply had done his body real good. He was muscular and lithe but not bulky, in perfect condition to play the seeker. It would do him no good to be built like a chaser, his movements would be too slow and too sluggish. Speed and agility were his keywords.

"I should fucking hex you immediately the next time I see even your retreating back. I promise Riddle, payback will be a right bitch and you should sleep with both your eyes open, or screw that don't sleep at all. Suffer fucking insomnia and get wrecked."

He tried to turn to bite the other man some more, maybe in the shoulder this time, but a surprisingly strong hand kept his head pressed against the cool wall. The other hand caught his wrists behind his back in a bruising grip.

"Stay." 

Harry could only imagine how they must have looked, him butt naked and Riddle fully clothed, but both drenched in water and tension that still cascaded down around them. Him pressed like a ferocious animal against the wall, rendered immobile and Riddle forcing his submission. Fuck that. He itched to run his hands through Riddles destroyed posh hairstyle, to tear at the soft streak and to shove and push and to pay Riddle equally back.

"I am seriously mad at you right now."

He gritted through clenched teeth but suppressed a groan as the leg between his knee pushed slowly upwards. 

"I am aware, and I want to inform you that's exactly the reason I chose to ... spice things up a little."

"Spice things up? Merlin, are you fucking mental? Do I look like a fucking meal that needs seasoning? Wait, don't answer that."

The grip around his wrists was quickly replaced with a non-verbal binding spell - wandless, because Riddle was a bloody show off and nothing if not ostentatious and practical - as both his hands were busy holding Harry down, and the only hard thing Harry could feel was pressed to his lower back. Normally he would admire Riddle for doing wandless magic, and be a whole lot of envious, but right now he was balancing on the edge of a cliff. Should he let go and possible hurt himself to the point of permanent damage or keep on standing straight and proud.  
Because being with Riddle in any way meant abandoning your own pride and your expectations of right and wrong, of what was normal and acceptable.

Was hurting each other out of frustration and desire acceptable? No. Was it satisfying? Merlin, yes.

Was it fair that only one person’s feelings in a duet were deeper involved than the others? No, not a motherfucking, merlinscocksucking bit. Did either of them cared? Nope.

Riddle cared for Harry and Harry scraped the edge of falling in love with Riddle, they both knew that fact as well as that Riddle had the same care for Harry as for good grades or galleons or his diary or really any of his possessions. Did they care? Not nearly enough.

Should Harry resent Riddle for that? Probably, but he didn't, for some fucked up reason he didn't. Maybe because he wasn't even sure Riddle possessed whatever vital organ or function it took to love someone other than himself.

Fingernails scraped over Harry's back, not breaking skin but probably leaving angry red marks on the water softened membrane.

"On your knees, hun."

Dominance and a no-nonsense tone hit Harry like a slap to the face.  
It was common knowledge that Riddle had a domineering streak in his personality, nobody enjoyed commanding and being right as much as him, Harry guessed that was one of his main reasons to aim for a teaching career.  
But that the shining, blank polished head boy was a bit on the sadistic site was less well-known, much to none.

"Fuck you, if you think after the stunt you just pulled I will suck your dick you are severely mistaken."

"For someone so adamantly against this idea you mentioned sucking my dick quite often."

"Yeah, because I know ya only hear what ya would like to."

"I am sure I can convince you to change your mind", Tom Riddle declared indulgently and pressed his leg further up into Harry´s crotch and this time his nails broke the skin until the other boy winced.  
Red mixed with the water and the pinkish fluid was quickly carried away.

The wound burned hot under the water and Riddle chased the pain with cool lips and a talented tongue.

His free hand sneaked around to Harry´s abs, tracing the muscles and following the prominent v line and arrow pointing towards the desired destination.  
If he could, Harry would have doubled over in a stimulation overload.  
Pleasure and pain chased each other and like yin and yang they fit together splendidly, and nobody knew how to manipulate them better than Tom Riddle.  
This incredible beautiful, incredible cruel, too smart for his own good boy. Their ways would probably part after graduation and Harry's soul already mourned the loss.

"Let me touch you."

Harry didn't beg, he was so stubbornly proud, and his pride sometimes hurt him more than others because he just couldn't let go of things. But Riddle knew him, he had figured him out when Harry himself didn't even knew his equation.  
Because the very thing that repelled him most about Riddle also attracted him. Power. This was a man Harry couldn't take on and hope to win. Why was it that the once powerless would always devour themselves in a cannibalistic desire for power?

"Ask nicely."

"Fuck you, Riddle. Let me go. I don't need you."

"My hand on your dick tells me different", he whispered before his lips descended to kiss Harry, who instantly leaned into the touch as much as the hand holding his head immobile on the wall would allow him to.

Water dripped into his eyes and mouth as he snapped for air.

"Breath, hun. Keep breathing."

Harrys knees wobbled, and breathing suddenly became harder as Riddle did this thing with his wrist were he - with a pained groan Harry came in Tom’s hand, like a pubescent boy jerking off for the first time to the photo of his favourite famous quidditch player. Merlin.

Riddle released the binding spell and whispered a simple cleansing spell, before he caught Harry´s tired body in his arms.

Finally, free to do as he pleases, Harry turned to gaze at the dark shining eyes of the completely drenched head boy. Inky hair was adorned with thousands of waterdrops and this mischievous grin that Riddle normally only wore when nobody was around, in place. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he pressed on impulse his lips onto the others. Wet warmth met wet warmth.

"This means war", he mumbled against the others mouth, his own grin in place.

"Acknowledged", Riddle smirked.

After all this was what they did, graduation and future jobs be damned, they would always find each other if only to fulfill unpaid debts.


End file.
